ready for the weekend
by a warrior queen
Summary: How exactly does this keep happening? —Shitennou.


Happy (one day early) birthday to one of my bestest friends ever, Sonya!

**ready for the weekend**

Jakob woke up solely because he heard some banging.

He sat there, on the floor, without any pants and any recognition of exactly where he was. And, honestly, he should probably get on that, figuring out where he was, but it legitimately felt as if he was sitting in the middle of the ocean and the waves kept pushing him back and forth and it was making his stomach feel really, really awful.

He groaned, placing a hand on his stomach and looking around the… Small apartment…?

"Oh Christ," he groaned, shakily getting up and off the ground and only half searching for his pants.

Sprawled on the couch was Nate, his mouth hanging open and his hair a complete and utter mess. Jake slapped his face but, who was he kidding, nothing could ever really wake Nate up except, well someone mentioning Lita in any sort of way. Jake sighed, running a hand through his blond hair and blinking his eyes; they stung as if he'd been awake all night and now he sort of felt like he was housing Hell itself and why was it so _hot_?

"Nate," he croaked, pressing a fist to his mouth to keep any kind of bile from escaping. "Nate, wake up you absolute _ass_."

He got a groan for a reply but it wasn't by Nate; not that Jake was even surprised. He slowly turned to look over the couch's back as Zeke cradled his head, his eyes squinted and his shirt ripped in various places.

"You look like complete shit," Jake muttered.

Zeke looked up at him, his green eyes bloodshot. "I don't even _care_ right now, I feel like I've been run over… _Twice_."

"That'd explain your shirt."

He watched as Zeke looked down at his shirt, his brow furrowing as he traced the scratch openings with his finger. "What the hell—did I pick a fight with a tiger or something?"

Jake snorted and stood from the couch, slapping Nate's forehead one last time before deciding that looking for his pants would be a bigger accomplishment for the murky morning.

"Where are we?" Zeke questioned as he stood up, half swaying from one side to the other.

"Always asking the right questions, Zee," Jake drawled, lifting a paper bag and looking inside. It was empty.

Zeke took his shirt off and practically screamed at the sight of his bare torso. He spun around, attempting to look at his back over his shoulder but only succeeding in making himself dizzier than he had been when he woke up. "Look at me; it's like I had raunchy sex with a nympho!"

"Except you're still a virg—"

"I am _not_!"

Zeke hissed as he poked at the pink scratches, moaning and throwing his head back. "I bet my hair's like a bird's nest, too."

"You finally noticed!" Jake applauded at him, smirking as Zeke sent him a glare. It wasn't like they could actually get into their stupid arguments when Jake felt he was burning in Hell and Zeke looked like he came out of a bad porno. "Wake that douche bag up; I'm trying to find my goddamn pants."

Jake walked into the small kitchenette, pausing at the sight of broken glass and pasta; it was like he walked into the scene of a very bad sleepover game. Like Truth or Dare gone totally bad because Jake didn't really think pasta and Jack Daniels was a very good combination. He stepped over the mess, thinking about maybe washing his face in the sink and get rid of the unbearable heat that only he could feel.

And then he paused when he found his pants on the kitchen sink. He picked them up but then dropped them back down when Pixie Sticks fell out of one of his pockets. Jake blinked, wondering why exactly he had them in the first place; he fucking hated those shitty things.

"OH GOD WHERE'S ARTEMIS?!"

Blinking at the loud yell, Jake abandoned his pants and stepped back into the living room, watching as Nate rolled off the couch and looked around the place with an alarmed expression.

"What's with the yelling?"

"Artemis," Nate hissed as if it were obvious. He lifted a pillow from the ground and then dropped it when he didn't exactly find what he was looking for.

"Why are we supposed to care about Mina's cat?" Zeke questioned, rubbing his temples.

"Last thing I remembered was Mina's cat."

"You were dreaming," Jake drawled, rolling his blue eyes.

"NO! I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER PETTING ARTEMIS IN THE JET."

"_What_ jet?!"

"Where the fuck are we?!" Zeke asked, again.

Nate stalked towards the sole window in the apartment and peeked through the blinds. "Yep, we're in Italy."

Jake practically glided towards him, shoving him away and looking out the window for himself. "How the hell can you even _tell_?!"

"The buildings? I don't know, I thought it was pretty obvious!"

"Why the hell are we in _Italy_!?" Zeke practically screeched as he flung the door open and stepped outside.

A cellphone went off, then, and all three looked at each other with wide eyes. It took them exactly three seconds before they scrambled around, searching the entire place—wherever, whoever's, it was—for the godforsaken device. In the end, they found it under the couch and it was decorated with stickers that could or could not belong to Serena. Zeke held it in his hand and blinked for a second before Jake shoved at him and gestured to pick up.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "…Hello?"

"_Zeke."_

"Oh. Uh. Heyyy Khalid."

Nate and Jake locked eyes, the former's jaw twitching and the latter's Adam's apple bobbling as he swallowed thickly.

"_I'm calling because you, Jakob and Nate are, unsurprisingly, missing. And because one of Darien's jets is missing as well and he has a conference to get to in the States. Care to explain?"_

"Uh."

"_Also, Mina wants me to ask you if you've seen her godforsaken cat."_

"Uh."

Zeke gave up, right then and there, and handed the phone to Jake before taking a seat in the couch and running—or trying to—a hand through his hair. It all made sense now; it didn't come back to him because Zeke had this distinct feeling that he drank enough liquor for at _least_ three people and if he were ever to remember what exactly he had done in the last twelve hours, he'd need just a tiny bit of therapy. But it made _sense_; his tattered shirt, the scratches, the… The apparent fact that they were in _Italy_!

He looked up and stared at Nate before turning to face Jake who slowly licked his lips as he, too, came to the same conclusion.

"Khalid?" He said, running a hand through his hair. "No, this is Jake… How you doin'?"

"_Jake, would you kindly explain—"_

"We kinda got drunk and," here he cleared his throat and looked out the opened door. "And we sorta lost your girlfriend's cat… Somewhere in Italy."

There was silence on the other line.

Jake blinked

"_I'm going to find you and __**kill**__ you_!" And that was Mina.

The line went dead and Jake dropped the phone to the ground.

"Welp," he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're dead."


End file.
